Daily Times

Syed Behroz Hussain, the grieving son of the latest victim in Peshawar, Dr Riaz Hussain, complained that his father had knocked at every government door for security, after receiving death threats from the Lashkar-e-Jhangvi (LeJ), but none was provided. While speaking to the stunned audience at the Harvard University’s Kennedy School, his was an impassioned plea to the government to protect the vulnerable Shia minority in Pakistan against the Taliban and the LeJ target killings.

Likewise, Dr Shahnawaz Ali was gunned down outside his clinic in Liaqat Bazaar in Peshawar cantonment. Both belonged to the Kurrum Agency where the sectarian fire has erupted since General Musharraf’s government. Both gentleman and fine doctors were unaware of the fact that the raging fire from Kurrum eventually had reached their doorsteps, in the otherwise safe environs of Peshawar.

A week later, a soft spoken and courteous advocate, Malik Jarrar Hussain, a sincere friend of many, was no more. How will his very young sons live on with the haunting memory of their father being ruthlessly mowed down right in front of their eyes while on their way to school?

A police officer of the community, SP Investigation Hilal Haider, was killed in a suicide attack in Qissa Khwani Bazaar in November last year. These are just a few examples of several sectarian target killings, which is a new phenomenon in this otherwise tolerant city.

The KP minister Iftikhar Hussain has rightly described the province’s violent slide into anarchy as ‘calculated’. The citizens of the once peaceful city of Peshawar do not understand the motive behind this organised mayhem. What would anyone gain by disfiguring its identity as a birthplace of the Gandhara civilisation and the non-violent Khudai Khidmatgar movement at the time of independence?

I can nostalgically recall our frequent visits to the walled city during Muharram in the early 1970s, where the ritual of the martyrdom of Prophet Mohammad’s (PBUH) grandsons was observed with solemn grief and reverence. One observed Sunni neighbours sharing sabeels and alams as a sign of solidarity with the Shia brothers. The final two days of Muharram were usually spent witnessing the amazing spectacle as one could perhaps compare with the experience of Christmas celebrations in Jerusalem. It did not make anyone a lesser Sunni or apostate as is being now openly fomented through pulpits by the fanatic Salafi and their Takfiri proponents.

We had often heard stories about the Hindu and Sikh communities living as peaceful neighbours until the communal fires erupted during the Partition. The NWFP (presently KP) was spared the horrors of the Partition owing to the ruling Congress government and charismatic personality of Bacha Khan preaching peace and tolerance as his political philosophy.

The cultural complexion of the city changed over time during the Zia regime after the influx of the Gulf- funded Mujahideen, as traditional hospitality and tolerance gave way to orthodox Sunni majoritarian conformity, resulting in shrinking space for religious and cultural diversity. Now 30 years hence, Peshawar is a violence scared and culturally retrogressive city, where all art forms are looked down upon.

The birthplace of the most notable icons like Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor and the family of Shah Rukh Khan from within the walled city is devoid of notable heritage landmark cinemas or Mughal period parks for recreation of the emotionally starved youth, bombarded with the heady dose of violence and obscene consumerism. The plundering of its unique tangible and intangible heritage by the predatory market forces, there is no role model or sense of history except the prevailing belligerent doctrines.

The irony of the present era can be gauged from the fact that Bacha Khan’s granddaughter and Wali Khan’s daughter now lives as political refugees in a two-room flat in a foreign city, being twice targeted by the so-called Taliban for her family background. A UK trained general surgeon, she had served her province selflessly, catering mostly to the disadvantaged on compassionate grounds. Her ailing mother Begum Nasim Wali Khan is in contact with her through weekly phone calls. Her cousin, the unassuming Ajmal Khan, the former VC of the Islamia College, is still untraced after being abducted three years ago, leaving behind a wife and five daughters in unending distress.

Much has changed in Pakistan over the course of past seven decades. And sadly for the worse. We are now hurtling towards a catastrophe as one community after another is being targeted. After the Hindus, it was the Ahmedis, then the ghettoised Christians and now the Shias. According to reliable sources, 20,000 have been killed, and many more on the death list as the apparently complicit state watches the macabre drama unfold.

A state extolling a narrow religious interpretation of faith leaves little room for tolerance for diversity, except for the ruthless witch-hunt against the minorities. It seems this pogrom of hate shall consume us all.

The list of names of deceased young friends and colleagues on my mobile phone is on the increase. I hate to delete these, for the happy memories associated with them. Also painful is the fact that most of these dead were not only young but were also the victims of unnatural and violent deaths. And the list grows on.

The writer is a freelance columnist and can be reached at adilzareef@yahoo.com